"Yeah," Kiwi replied sadly. "I loved that stupid little teddy; it was the first present Fi ever bought me – I can’t think what happened to it."

"There was your bear gone – and a photo or something, missing from Hurd Applegate’s mantelpiece." Joe meditated aloud. "And Frank’s car keys….With all these things going missing, I’m starting to feel like our phantom killer is making a collection of trophies. I guess I’m wondering if there might be something missing from Dad’s things."

Kiwi shuddered. "Harvesting…" he whispered. "Keeping mementos from both the detectives and the victims…of course! I suppose he must have taken something from Mrs. Gyles – but I wouldn’t know for sure – I mean, I wouldn’t be likely to recognize anything."

Frank looked at Joe with definite big-brother approval and pride in his acumen. "Nice one, Joe." he murmured. "That’s using your head." Then, with a teasing smile, he added: "See? I always said you shouldn’t listen to those rumors about you being nothing but a pretty face…!" He jerked back out of reach, just in case, but Joe merely gave him a reproachful glare and returned to his idea.

"So do you think there’s anything missing from our house belonging to Dad?"

"Mom might not have noticed, since the police searched the place – and after all, the murderer didn’t come into our house, just the car – leaving that incriminating stamp!" Frank replied. His face lit up with dawning comprehension, and he snapped his fingers in excitement. "Maybe we should search Dad’s car and see if we can come up with anything missing that ought to be there."

Joe glanced at Kiwi, whose eyes were glazing over, and frowned.

"Maybe we should call it a day." Frank said, glancing at his watch. "I have to work tomorrow morning, remember." He rose to his feet. "But I’ll take a long lunch hour, and we can meet over at Mom and Dad’s to check out the car." He walked toward the door, heading for his own room.

"Don’t—" Kiwi broke off to stifle another yawn. "—worry about it. I’m sorry, I can’t hold my eyes open…."

"Good night," Frank said emphatically, and departed before Joe could start another conversation.

*****

The other residents of the B & B were not yet at the breakfast table, but Mrs. Bennett smilingly brought out their breakfasts. To the intense amusement of all three, this morning’s menu included scrambled eggs and toast.

Frank started to laugh, and poked the egg with his knife. "Some things never change," he said in a low voice, not wanting to give their hostess the false impression that they were laughing at her excellent cooking.

"Oh, dear God…." Kiwi groaned, trying to suppress a smile behind the back of his slender hand, as he looked across the table to meet Joe’s blue eyes brimming with laughter. "This reminds me of England – it’s scary! Every time I’m with you guys, I’m being haunted by scrambled eggs on toast!"

Frank took an experimental bite. "What’s more, they’re better than yours…." he said critically…and then ducked.

"Oi! Watch it, pal!" said Kiwi dryly, taking a playful swing at his head.

They reminisced through the rest of the meal, until Frank glanced at his watch and gasped at the realization that he was in danger of being seriously late for his ‘early’ start. He jumped up from the table, took one last gulp of coffee, and was out the door before either Joe or Kiwi could even bid him a startled farewell.

"Well, that was kinda – almost, rude!" Kiwi remarked, watching through the window as Frank skittered down the front steps and headed for his car.

"So much for the dizzy spells." Joe commented. "He can move fast enough when he has to."

Once Frank had driven away, the other two turned back to the table and sat down again, lingering over their coffee and tea.

"So, what’s in the cards for us today, other than meeting Frank later to search Dad’s car?" Joe asked.

Joe stopped aimlessly stirring his coffee. "Really?" he asked, surprised…and then wrinkled his nose as he watched Kiwi absent-mindedly add three more spoons of sugar to the mix.

"I think so, dude." Kiwi agreed before taking a large gulp from the cup. "Oh yuck!"

*****

A few minutes later, the two young men were back in Joe’s room, both lying on their stomachs across the bed. Between them were laid out the two sets of documents.

Joe glanced at Kiwi’s list. "Did Mark do yours?" he inquired.

"Yeah – why? Is there a problem?"

"No problem – it’s just so neatly laid out. We’re used to working with scruffy forms like this." he explained, flicking at the edge of Con’s photocopied document, which was filled with spelling errors and cross-outs in several places.

"What can I say? Mark’s a professional," Kiwi murmured, casting an eagle eye over the lists. He smiled broadly. "Aha!" he shouted excitedly. "I thought our lists were different!"

"How so?" Joe leaned closer to get a better look.

"Look," Kiwi said, pointing. "Your list is minus a couple of cases I’ve got, and you’ve got two I haven’t—" His voice dropped an octave. "—one of them being your dad, of course."

Joe waved off Kiwi’s apologetic look. "What are the ones left off our list?" he asked.

Kiwi pushed the document closer to his friend, and indicated two places with his little finger. "There’s a case in Italy, and, ironically, one in New Zealand."

"Anyone you know?"

"Nah, it’s an agency in Auckland, in the North – the only place of urban sophistication in New Zealand. All the really cool people come from there – the rest of the country hates them, but that’s just envy and jealousy."

Joe stared at him. Surely he’s not being serious? he wondered silently, but then Kiwi followed his little speech up with:

"Alas, I come from the Southern end…see?" He held up his hands, with spread fingers, and grinned. "….webbing between my fingers and toes!"

Joe laughed at this description of his friend’s home island.

Kiwi turned his attention back to the report. "Interestingly, if you put the dates of the murders in chronological order, you can easily plot the progress the murderer has been making around the globe – he started in America, traveled across to Scotland, then down to England…then over to France, Germany and Italy…then down to New Zealand, across the ditch to Australia – and then he finally returned to the big U.S. of A!" He slammed his finger home on Fenton Hardy’s entry with an air of finality.

"I see what you mean," Joe agreed. "And everywhere he goes, a private investigator is framed for a murder he hasn’t committed – just like you and Dad have been." He looked down at the list again. "There’re an awful lot of miles between Italy and New Zealand, though…I wonder if—"

"Oh, PANTS!" Kiwi suddenly exclaimed loudly, and Joe, after one incredulous look, burst into uncontrollable whoops of laughter.

"What’s so funny?" Kiwi asked, totally mystified, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion at his friend’s violent mirth.

Joe rolled onto his back, still howling and clutching at his stomach. Before he could control himself, he was forced to take several deep, gasping breaths, such was the level of his hysteria.

" ‘Oh, pants’?!" he finally gasped.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Pants?"

"I don’t understand what’s so funny, it just means ‘oh, no’."

The younger Hardy shook his head. "You kill me, Kiwi!" he laughed. "So – anyway – what was it that made you say—" he started snickering again. "—oh, pants?"

Joe sobered at his friend’s observation. "You’re right – good thinking. I’ll call him; maybe he can reduce the numbers for us to look at later." Armed with Kiwi’s and Mark’s document, he reached for his cell phone.

Frank was just settling down at his desk when he heard the familiar tune of Mission: Impossible playing in his jacket pocket – he hadn’t cared to leave it in his locker, today. The room obviously wasn’t secure, and it had crossed his mind more than once that luck alone had prevented Chris Walker from blowing his cover, for he had absent-mindedly left his wallet in his jacket, that first day. He certainly didn’t want to give anyone else the opportunity! Hastily, he scrambled to answer his phone before Captain Lee heard it too.

"Hello?" he said; and hearing Joe’s excited voice, hissed: "Wait – take it easy!….I’ll go out into the hallway."

He hastily moved out into the hall, and looked up and down the luckily-deserted corridor before continuing the conversation in a low tone. His features became more and more animated as Joe explained why he had called – Frank wasn’t slow in realizing that this could be the break that might crack the case wide open!

Earlier, he’d been racking his brain for a solution to condense down the list of suspects, but was discouraged by his lack of ideas. He feared that he’d be reduced to pulling each paper file out of the system and cross-referencing back through all the personal documents within – a task that would have certainly attracted Captain Lee’s attention, and taken literally hours of time!

Upon receiving Joe’s information, which he scribbled on the back of his hand, lacking any paper, the elder Hardy hastened back to his little cubicle and added the two locations to his master list. The resultant cross-matches cut the list an incredible amount…Frank found himself staring at only three entries!

"Yes!" he exulted loudly, and ecstatically smacked the desktop with his palm. Realizing his error, he looked sharply towards the Captain’s office…but there was no reaction.

Keeping a wary eye on Lee’s door, Frank crossed the office to the filing cabinets. With shortened breathing and trembling fingers, he retrieved three fat files from the drawers and hastily returned to his desk. He pushed two files into a desk drawer, out of sight, and opened the third on his knees. If Captain Lee happened to enter the room, Frank intended to scoot forward so the file would be hidden under the desk, on his lap.

The first person’s name coincidentally matched the initials on the lighter, but when he looked at the employee’s personal details, the man was, to Frank’s mind, too young to fit the murderer’s profile. He closed the folder, dropped it into the desk, and pulled out the next one.

Impatiently, Frank leafed through the second file folder. This guy’s the right age…but his initials don’t match. Upon examination of relatives’ names, however, Frank spotted that an older brother bore the correct initials. There were no notations of disciplinary action – on the contrary, the file was full of complimentary notations and commendations. The man was married, had three teenaged children, and seemed to be a model citizen. Sighing, Frank shut the folder. Another dead end….

He opened the third and final file, and again found some matching initials. The initials belonged to a father, long since deceased. Again, there were no negative aspects to the man’s file; he appeared to be career military, a physical fitness trainer, and apparently a success in his job. Frank mentally noted the differences from the previous file: Not married…no children…no other family members mentioned…no ties.

On a sudden whim, Frank swiveled back to the computer and typed in the name of the first man’s older brother, looking for some correlation to the Military Police. He came up empty – and so he tried the second man’s father….

And he stared at the screen as it filled with information. Forty years ago, James Albright’s father had been a member of the 25^th Military Police Company…a member who had been, according to the data, dishonorably discharged!

Frank glanced at the date the man had been discharged – and then at the date of death. The numbers leaped out of the screen at him – the two dates were only a couple of weeks apart! Alarm bells began ringing in the elder Hardy’s head.

Frank sat slowly back in his chair, and folded his arms tightly across his chest. Did he dare hope? Is this what I’ve been searching for?